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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849326">Empathy and Merciful, Kind Touches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_noma/pseuds/its_noma'>its_noma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shall We Date?: Obey Me!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Belphegor &amp; Lucifer &amp; Mammon &amp; Asmodeus are mentioned, Fluff and Angst, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:49:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,547</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_noma/pseuds/its_noma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Can I do that?” you interrupt, and all at once he falls silent.</p>
  <p>Then, “What?”</p>
  <p>You gesture down at his own hands, knit nervously together in his lap. “May I return the favor?”</p>
</blockquote>OR: Both Beelzebub and the reader are missing their siblings and comfort each other.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Empathy and Merciful, Kind Touches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Omg not only my first Obey Me! fic but my first /reader fic too...the last time I wrote a story in second person was in my creative writing class in high school. Wow, that feels like forever ago.</p><p>Anyway! I'm sorry if you don't have a brother—I loosely based the descriptions of the MC's brother off my own. We're still under the same roof thanks to this pandemic, but he's moving out in August and sometimes I get a little sad even though he's still here. Maybe this was just a little something to cheer me—and Beel—up haha.</p><p>Based off a text conversation between the MC and Beel. I hope whoever's choosing to read this enjoys it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>What you can only equivocate to homesick jetlag keeps you up late most nights. You’ve been here—the Devildom—for almost two whole months; missing home shouldn’t be your biggest issue right now. But you can’t help the tightness in your chest when you lay awake, staring owlishly up at your ceiling that isn’t really your ceiling, wondering about your family and friends back home and how they’re doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t let it get to you. There’s no point crying about it. You can’t go home until the full year of the exchange program is completed. Even, if Lucifer caught wind of you being homesick he’d bring it straight to Diavolo, who would no doubt try and do something to make you feel more welcome. You don’t want to bother the demon prince.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, during these restless nights, you walk around the House of Lamentation. It gets unbearable staring at the same odd marks on the ceiling that are probably the result of some sort of fight or prank from one of the brothers before you arrived; a change in scenery helps take your mind off things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Water sounds nice on this particular night. You sit up, throwing your blankets off of you and standing, grabbing your D.D.D. before making your way out of your room. The kitchen is right by next door, which makes it all the easier to be out late unnoticed. You’re not feeling particularly chatty right now, so running into Mammon or Asmodeus wouldn’t be too optimal, as much as you usually adore their company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s another sleepless night, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you realize as you fill a tall glass with water and gulp it all down before filling it once more. With this one you’re slower, taking a seat on the counter and scrolling through your D.D.D. as you drink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re standing back up to fill your glass a third time when your D.D.D. buzzes. You raise a brow as you set down your glass. Who would be texting or calling so late at night?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s from Beel. Unconsciously your lips twitch up at the mere sight of his name on your screen. You unlock your D.D.D. and click on the chat app.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>MC, do you have any brothers?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You raise a brow. That’s a rather odd question coming from Beel. You would’ve expected him asking if you’re up and down for a late night snack—that would in no doubt end with him eating everything in the kitchen and Lucifer scolding the two of you in the morning over it—but certainly not this. You hesitate before responding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I do.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no use lying about something so mundane as the size of your family. Maybe talking about it will help you get some sleep, you hope.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beel’s response comes quickly after.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I see.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something tells you Beel is having trouble sleeping over similar reasons; Belphegor is still trapped up in the attic after all. You set down your D.D.D. in order to down the water in your glass and set it by the sink. In that time, Beel sends another message.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Do you want to see them?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You only have one brother, but yes, your chest feels heavy at the mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea </span>
  </em>
  <span>of seeing him. Your brother means the world to you, and although he gives far too many snarky comments than is necessary and is cranky for at least an hour after he wakes up—without fail—every day, there isn’t anything you wouldn’t give to see his smile at least for a second. Your fingers type out a response before you even think of one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Yeah, I’d like to see them.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You leave the kitchen and make your way to Beel’s room. There’s no point in continuing this conversation over text when it’s entirely possible to speak face to face. A part of you feels selfish for seeking him out this late, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one who started the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>I totally get how you feel.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You figured as much. You’re about to type out a response and tell him you’re at his door when he sends another message soon after.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sorry, that was a really strange question to ask, wasn’t it? </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, not at all. Well, okay—</span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> but, after the initial confusion, you’re not surprised. You understand where he’s coming from.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Forget I said anything.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t bother knocking when a few minutes pass and he refuses to send another message. You know the conversation is over; there’s no point in replying. But there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a point in how you open the door, stepping into the darkness of his room and clicking it shut behind you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Silence. If he doesn’t want to speak, that’s alright. You don’t mind; you rarely speak unless prompted anyway. But you know leaving the interaction as a whole right then and there would fill you with guilt. Beel is clearly hurting. You want to help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stepping further into the room, you make your way to the left bed, Beel’s bed. But when you reach down and feel around for him, he’s not there. There’s no indent in the bed or soft breathing. Instead you hear shifting from the other bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beel?” you quietly call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s you.” Beel’s voice is gentle, barely above a whisper. “I thought you were Mammon trying to play a prank. What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You walk the few feet to Belphegor’s bed. Your vision isn’t the best in the dark, but as you grow more and more adjusted you can see the outline of him sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed. Hesitant, you take a seat on the edge. He doesn’t protest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply. It isn’t entirely a lie; you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>sleep. But it’s not the full reason why you’re here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beel’s next inhale is sharp and watery. You hear him shift, cough muffled before he speaks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he says. </span>
  <span>“Did you have something to eat before you came?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’d be easier to see him with a light on. You shift off the bed and feel around on the nightstand for the lamp you know is there, flicking the switch once you find it. The light blinds you for a moment as you pull back, blinking rapidly before turning back to Beel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” you answer. “Want to have something to eat with me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s usually a question he reserves for you, not the other way around. Beel must realize this when his brows raise, confusion morphing into surprise before he looks away. You come back over to the bed and hold out a hand to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he shakes his head. “No…I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. Beel, the Avatar of Gluttony, is turning down the opportunity for a late night snack. Well, you can’t really blame him. Missing someone has never stroked your appetite either. You settle back onto the bed, able to clearly see the red rimming his eyes, his cheeks flushed as he sniffles. He’s been crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a strange question,” you say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beel doesn’t look at you. “Forget it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You shake your head. Slowly you pull your legs up onto the bed and shift, crawling closer to him. It’s only when you rest your hands over his knees that Beel looks at you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss my brother too,” you quietly assure him. “Maybe we can miss them together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He searches your face for a moment. It feels like he’s looking through you at someone else, or perhaps he’s looking through you into your very soul, gazing upon your entire being like a spider does its prey caught in its web.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beel’s hands shift to rest over yours. Finally, he murmurs, “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You smile. Shifting to sit on your calves, you carefully flip your hands over to intertwine with Beel’s, palms pressing together and fingers interlacing. His are unbelievably warm compared to yours, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead he gives them a tender squeeze, so soft you almost don’t feel it. You squeeze them back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of you speak for a while. You don’t push for a conversation. It’s peaceful like this, the two of you sitting in front of each other, enjoying the dead of the night together. It makes the ache in your chest just the slightest bit lessened, not nearly as brutal and heavy as it had been alone in your room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You wonder if you can stay like this for the rest of the night. It’d be nice to get some sleep, but the serenity of this moment is a little more important. Perhaps you can serve as a sort of anchor for Beel like he feels for you in this moment. Maybe you can become closer and lean against one another for support in times like this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(But maybe that’s a little selfish too.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You yawn, drawing Beel’s eyes back to your face. “Are you tired?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” you respond, but it’s said too quickly to be convincing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should go back to your room,” Beel suggests. “Lucifer wouldn’t be happy if you fell asleep in class.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That he wouldn’t. You can already imagine the three hour long lecture he’d give you about Diavolo and the exchange program, the necessity of sleep, taking your classes more seriously…you shrug in spite of the consequences. Beel raises a brow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said we’d be in this together, right?” you remind him. “I’d rather be here with you than alone in my room tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What’d be the point in going back to your room if you’re just going to stay awake, staring at the ceiling and getting lost in your spiraling thoughts for the upteenth time? At least here there’s that tranquil feeling. The notion that the ocean growing inside has become shallow and benevolent for once, like a pond with no wildlife inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beel’s lips curl up almost shyly, his cheeks flushing a dusty pink in the soft yellow light of the lamp. He brings your hands up, hesitant for only a moment before pressing a kiss to the back of both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your breath catches in the back of your throat. Beel adjusts your hands in his so your palms are exposed, in which he presses a warm kiss to each as well. Your heart feels like a hummingbird’s in your chest, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump thump thump </span>
  </em>
  <span>unkind in your ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only when he looks up and meets your wide, surprised eyes that the lamblike expression on his face dissipates, eyes widening as he realizes what it is he just did. He lets go of your hands as if burned, scooting back away from you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…I don’t know what came over me,” he hurries to explain, voice coming out in a breathless rush. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry, I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continues fumbling through apology over apology, unable to meet your gaze. All you can do is stare at his flushed face, your own no doubt matching its hue. Your hands tingle where he’d kissed them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I do that?” you interrupt, and all at once he falls silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You gesture down at his own hands, knit nervously together in his lap. “May I return the favor?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t know how your voice sounds so even, or maybe that’s an illusion your sudden confidence is shielding your ears with. But you can’t deny that this may be the only opportunity you’re given to explain the merciless tirade that are your feelings for him. It’s selfish, yes, but you hope you’ll be forgiven afterwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he manages is a slow nod. You smile, crawling closer to him once more and taking his hands in yours. You bring them to your lips. Imitating his order, you press a featherlight kiss to the back of his left hand, then his right. His shoulders jerk with each one, but he doesn’t squirm or try to get away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When you reach his palms, he asks, “Why are you doing this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You pause. “Do you not like it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Beel says, then swiftly corrects when you begin pulling away, “No, I like it. I do. I…you’re not doing this out of anything more than empathy, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You don’t know how to answer without sounding like a completely lovesick fool. Instead, you ask, “Is that what you want?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You lean down and press your lips to his right palm. “Is that what you need right now? Empathy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You shift and press a kiss to his other palm as you wait for his response. There’s no telling if Beel is going to accept or reject you if you offer anything more than this, but there’s no harm in asking. Maybe all he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>need is empathy and merciful, kind touches. But maybe you can get away with your selfishness and give him something more, something more tenderhearted and demure than what he’s accustomed to in the wake of the morning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “No, I…this is an interesting feeling. I'm finding it hard to relax.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You pull away, dropping your hands down onto your thighs. Beel’s hands stay where you’d been holding them for a few seconds before they follow your example.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it a good feeling?” you ask, hopeful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brows knit together. You watch as Beel worries his bottom lip between his teeth, the skin nearly breaking before he lets it go. He looks back up at you, gaze soft and eyes full with something you don’t recognize.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And,” he continues, pausing before continuing in a tentative voice, “I don’t know what I need. But…you being here is good enough right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod. “Okay. I’m here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods too, smile small but pleased as if he’d just finished eating a meal fit for the entire student body of RAD. It’s calming in its familiarity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands finding yours catches you off guard. “Sorry. I just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You shake your head, giving his hands a tender squeeze. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He squeezes your hands back, touch just as featherlight and gentle. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of you stay like that for a while until Beel’s eyes eventually start drooping, dozing off now and again. It gets to the point where he slumps over to one side. You help ease him onto his side on the bed, never once letting go of his hands no matter how awkward it is to position yourselves, but after a bit of fumbling you manage it. Beel doesn’t stir, out like a light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lamp’s light illuminates Beel’s sleeping features beautifully, softening his edges and making him look younger than usual. You don’t want to let go of his hands to turn it off, so you simply leave it, shielding Beel’s body with yours so the light doesn’t bother him as he sleeps. Every so often you feel him squeeze your hands, but aside from the occasional flutter of his eyelashes he doesn’t awaken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You can’t deny the sense of peace that envelops you in this moment. Beel’s hands are warm in yours, his soft, even breathing just barely fanning against your face in your close proximity. For once you’re able to sleep, even if just for a few hours, the rest benign and sorely needed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No beta as always, so if you saw any mistakes...please respectfully look away...let me pretend I'm intelligent</p></blockquote></div></div>
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